Chapter One
Taking risks made Philippa Young’s blood sing, made her feel alive. She really shouldn’t have gone up to the house. But it was so bloody cold in the stable. And when Davina had suggested having sex in the library, she couldn’t resist. She’d never had much willpower where women were concerned. God, it was cosy, and all those soft rugs were so enticing. They laughed and threw most of their clothes off, flinging them in all directions. Davina took her hand and pulled her down on the rug to join her. It was a faux fur rug, and it was soft and fluffy…or shaggy, which seemed to sum up their sex life.
They fumbled around and after way too much foreplay, Phil was crazy with desire. She was just about to remove Davina’s panties when she felt a cold sensation on her back. She shuddered and turned to see two Labradors, and one was nuzzling her back. She laughed and turned back to Davina.
Davina wasn’t laughing. “Shit! I locked them in the kitchen.” She sprang up. “Get up. Marshall’s back.”
Phil was minus her jacket, jeans, and boots. She found her jacket and boots. “My jeans. Where are they?”
One of the dogs went bounding past them with Phil’s Armani jeans swinging from its mouth.
Davina ran to the window and shoved it open. “Sod the jeans. You’ll have no legs to put in them if Marshall catches you.”
Phil pulled her boots on, slung her jacket out the window, and dived after it. Lucky they were on the ground floor. The bed she landed in was full of stinging nettles. She opened her mouth and silently screamed. She scrambled out of the nettles and ran full speed towards the stable to her car, which was hidden at the back. She could hear a man shouting from the direction of the house which spurred her on even faster. Fortunately, her keys and phone were in her jacket pocket, so she high tailed it home.
She itched like a flea ridden dog all night and was covered in stings. In the morning she resorted to scouting around hedgerows in search of dock leaves. Isn’t that what they used when they were kids? There wasn’t one in sight, so she headed to the pharmacy. The young shop assistant could hardly keep a straight face. She gave her some baking powder and told her to mix it into a paste with water.
Phil took it home and lathered it on, feeling like an itchy mummy. When would she learn? Women were nothing but trouble.
***
She made it through work the following day, and it was far too late to be eating. Still, Phil placed her pizza, a tub of coleslaw, a bottle of red wine, and a glass on her coffee table. Some company. She kicked off her shoes, picked up the remote, and switched the TV on. She selected a random program and relaxed into the sofa. After a few minutes, she leaned forward, grabbed a slice of pizza, and devoured it. The next piece, she tasted. Triple cheese, anchovies, peppers, onions, and pepperoni. She licked her lips and smiled. She stuck her fork into the coleslaw and shovelled it into her mouth. She munched away, then poured herself a glass of wine and took a large gulp. Better.
After starting work at half-way past the crack of a sparrow’s fart, she’d been determined to eat dinner in peace. Hardly dinner, more like eating to live, but it would do. She felt as rough as a badger’s arse and looked like one too. When she’d brushed her teeth this morning, she’d glanced in the mirror, and some stranger stared back at her. She certainly wouldn’t give her a second look if she saw her on the street. Particularly as she had the added attraction of being covered in a nasty red rash. It didn’t hurt as much now, but the areas she couldn’t reach between her shoulder blades were driving her batty. She’d had to ask Carole, the office manager to put some of the baking powder paste on it, and Phil didn’t miss the wry grin she gave her as she did it.
Then she’d forgotten her car keys when she’d finally decided to go home. What was that proverb about getting old? Ah, yes, first you lose your memory. She scratched her head. She couldn’t remember the other two things. Yes, she’d definitely been burning the candle at both ends. But what the heck, that’s what life was all about. Fine food and beautiful women made the world go around. She was home now, and it was chill time. She was dreaming about a nice hot shower and then flopping into bed. What a novelty. Usually, her dreams involved some luscious young woman, or women, dressed in sexy underwear, lying on her bed to greet her. If they were in her bedroom tonight, maybe they could share a good book. She didn’t have the energy for anything more.
Her mobile vibrated. The humming continued and disturbed her thoughts. She tried to ignore it, but it just kept pulsating. Then there was the pinging. Message after message. Six missed calls. She groaned, poured herself another glass of wine, and pushed her phone under a cushion. She could still hear it. She pulled it out and brought it to life. All the calls were from Alan. Shit. What would her business partner possibly want at this time of night? She selected his number and waited.
“Philippa. I’ve been trying to contact you for over an hour!”
“Yes, I gathered.” She rubbed her head. “Listen, I’ve only just got home. Have you set yourself on fire or something?”
“I’m in A & E, and it looks like I’m going to be here for some time.” He sounded agitated.
She flinched at her choice of words. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Well, not really. I had a slight accident. I was cycling up the lane from the office, and a bloody rabbit ran out in front of me. I had to brake quickly. Well, you can imagine.”
She bit her lip and covered her mouth with her hand. She wanted to laugh but knew he’d be mortally offended. “Do you want me to come down to the hospital?”
“I can’t hear you. The line’s breaking up.”
She coughed and removed her hand from her mouth. “Is that better? I’ve moved to the other side of the room.”
“Yes, that’s better. Anyway, it’s okay. Grace is on her way. Looks like I’m going to be here for a while. I think it’s broken.”
“What? The bike, the rabbit, or a part of your anatomy?”
“My bloody leg, that’s what’s broken. The rabbit got away scot-free. I’ve got to wait for a plaster cast to be put on. I can’t envisage how I’m going to cope, or more to the point, how we’re going to cope.”
“Of course we will. This is Cauthwell village, not bloody New York.”
“That may be so, but I have a valuation tomorrow morning at ten-thirty. I’m not going to make it, and it’s a bit of a delicate one.”
“As in structure, or what?” She imagined a crumbling castle.
“As in sensitive.”
She sighed and rubbed at her temple. “Okay. Fire away. I was only planning a long-earned lie-in.”
“Sorry, Philippa. Normally I’d rearrange, but the house belonged to a very dear friend. He died tragically nearly a year ago. I don’t know whether you’ll remember him: Nigel Besson, our local vet?”
“Vaguely recall the name, though I don’t think I knew him. Remember, I’d only been here a few months.”
“Yes, Philippa. I’m sure you had other things on your mind.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “Give me the lowdown.”
“The address is The Chase, Holtney Lane. Nigel’s daughter wants it sold by auction. Well, I think she does. Saying that, you must give her all the options. Tell her about your experience—let me clarify that, I mean your experience as an auctioneer. Nothing personal. We don’t want her running scared. Anyway, her name’s Kim. I’m not sure if she’ll be there. She did say her neighbour, Simone, would open up the house. If she is there…please, handle her with care. She’s very emotional.”